


Reasons for Leaving

by trillingstar



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Holding Hands, Hospitals, Idealism, M/M, Religion, Shock, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5771905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillingstar/pseuds/trillingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Tim gets stabbed, Sean freaks out.  Internally.  The Murphy Way™.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reasons for Leaving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cmk418](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmk418/gifts).



> This ended up being Murphy-centric and also not so fluffy. Oops-yay? Yoops? ;)  
> 

You've never thought of yourself as a religious man, and now might be a good time to start.

You can't remember the last time you went to Mass. Visits dwindled from once in a while to the biggies – Easter and Christmas – and then down to not at all, because the pay's so good on holidays. There's a group of people in your building who put together a communal Thanksgiving a couple of days after the real one, so usually you join up with them for a few hours of celebration, starting with a potluck dinner. You bring a sweet potato dish. The recipe's from your aunt, who makes a mean plate of everything.

But then, you split up with the Catholic church long before Tim was stabbed. Going there every week was only a reflex, and on one of your cherished few days away from Oz. The first Sunday, you lounged in a bed made more comfortable by knowing you wouldn't be making the cold and snowy drive to the church. 

The whole day wound up feeling like a disobedience.

It's not that you stopped believing in God, because you still do, and that won't change. It's not that you think you're perfect, above needing spiritual guidance. You have worries same as anyone, including some that weigh on your conscience, proof of times when you haven't done your best. And it turns out that putting a percentage of your income into retirement savings is about a thousand times better than handing it over to an institution that protects kiddie diddlers.

While it's a surprise to learn that you're Tim McManus' medical emergency contact, it's not that big a surprise. By the time you give a statement, give up your bloodied uniform shirt as evidence, and stop shaking enough to drive, he's in the OR, and the nurses confine you to a nook filled with chairs that have scratchy cloth seats. There's a plastic fern crammed into the corner, barred in by an empty magazine rack. You run off last night's count's prisoner numbers to fill up your head until the doctor comes out with news.

Even worse is the reveal that there are more of the scratchy chairs inside Tim's hospital room. You're only allowed in the room because you control all of the decision-making, so you have to be in the loop. The doctor and some of the nurses are in the loop. Everyone else is outside the loop, because you haven't called anyone. There could be more people in the nook, but you're not willing to leave to check.

Instead you're sitting bedside for your boss and lifelong friend, listening to a couple different frequencies of beeping, and watching the steady timed breaths going in and coming out as Tim's chest rises and falls. Most of his face is covered by a blue-tinted oxygen mask. The rest of him blends into the hospital bed, pale on pale, with yellow feet where there's a spare throw blanket folded up by the footboard.

You haven't used an intermediary to God for some time, and as cliché as it sounds, you can't remember where to begin: beyond protection on the job, you haven't truly asked God for a thing for many years. You wouldn't be caught dead confessing to Father Mukada. Nothing against the Father, but there are some things your colleagues don't need to know. You've got no idea how Mukada does it, living in a rectory with all those other priests, all of 'em knowing all of the others' intimate thoughts and sins. How they're able to look each other in the face as they pass the cornflakes at breakfast.

You know a little something about unconventional families, though. 

"So's you know," you say, quietly. "If you die, I'll kill you."

Machines continue to breathe for Tim.

Of all the looney tunes, it had to have been White. Jesus. 

Tim's always had this idealism that you're drawn to, a spark in his eyes when he gets going on a brand new idea. That he's inventive is enough to keep you hovering around, curious, half-hoping, but still happy to rag on him when plans fall apart. If it was up to you, all of the psychos in Oz would be in solitary all the time. No interaction, no outside world, no trouble. 

Tim goes off on wild hairs because he really thinks some of the assholes in Em City can be rehabilitated. Believes some of the scumfucks in a maximum-security prison could be set loose on the general public, again. The idea that the staff at Oz can teach murderers and rapists to act like normal people is some kind of science fiction that Tim's cooked up, and you like him even more because he won't give up. You've never found this characteristic sexy before, this tenacity of Tim's, which could easily be mixed up with obstinacy, but to you it's bold. Stick-straight spine, endless nerve, and balls of steel. Add in conviction and intelligence, and you're still shaking your head for thinking you'd be able to stay away.

On the bed, Tim shifts around, his fingers uncurling. You wait, anticipating that he'll wake up, but he makes a grunting noise and then seemingly falls asleep. You stare at his palm, the lines on it, and at the pulse point on his wrist. Moving closer, you carefully slide your hand over his, cupping and holding, and you only jolt a little when Tim's fingers close over your hand. 

Family is sometimes the people you've chosen, and they've chosen you too.  


**Author's Note:**

> Wish #4, Request 1:  
> Pairing/Character(s): Tim McManus/Sean Murphy  
> Keyword/Prompt Phrase: After being shanked by Omar, Tim wakes up to see Sean by his hospital bed  
> Canon/AU/Either: Either  
> Special Requests: the fluffiest Oz fic imaginable (which given that it’s Oz may not be that fluffy)  
> Story/Art/Either: Story  
> 


End file.
